(I’m a day late on this, but I totally forgot that it was Monday. Whoops. It may have been due to the lack of sleep I had over the weekend with the combination of Friday’s early morning and Sunday’s late night.)

Sunday night, I was sitting with my parents, watching TV, when news broke that President Obama was going to address the nation at 10:30, with no further details. I got a little nervous. A little while later, it was announced that the statement was in relations to national security. And the pit in my stomach consumed me and it was all I could do to not have a full-on panic attack.

And then, speculative tweets started rolling in. The statement didn’t have anything to do with Libya or Donald Trump or even aliens. It was news that Americans had waited almost nine years and eight months to hear.

Osama Bin Laden was dead.

I have never killed any one, but I have read some obituary notices with great satisfaction. -Clarence Darrow

I don’t know how to better describe my feelings over the death of Osama Bin Laden in any other way. I know it doesn’t fix anything in the long run. There are a thousand more out there just like him.

But then there’s the sense of justice. I was only 13 years old when Osama Bin Laden changed the landscape of America forever. I don’t really remember what it was like before that September day. I’ve stood near the edge of the crater in Manatthan and tried to understand the scope of what happened that day.

And tried to remember what life was like before. Before we worried about someone taking a plane filled with Americans and flying it into buildings filled with Americans. Or trying to blow up their underwear or shoes. Where colors weren’t associated with threat levels.